Chapter 12
Thirteen days. The best almost-two-weeks of Grover’s life. He and Sierra had spent just about every minute of every day together.
And he was head over heels in love with her.
He didn’t know how she felt, unfortunately, since he’d done his best to keep his “friend” hat firmly in place.
They slept in the same bed every night, holding hands. He hadn’t had one nightmare in those two weeks. And she was looking even healthier. She’d gained more of her weight back and she smiled all the time.
They’d fallen into a routine, eating breakfast, visiting Melba and the other animals, then packing a picnic lunch and going for a hike.
They’d been all over the mountain trails and had gotten to know each other better with every step.
Grover had told Sierra stories that he hadn’t told anyone else.
And he’d like to think she’d shared some of her innermost thoughts as well.
After returning to The Refuge each day, they either visited with the therapist—separately, together, and in groups—took naps in the hammocks behind their cabins, or just hung out in the reception lodge, talking with other guests and Brick and his friends.
But their two-week stay was coming to an end. Tomorrow, Sierra’s parents would return to pick her up and he’d make the long drive back to Killeen.
Grover had also been in semi-regular contact with his friends—getting updates about an increasingly volatile situation back home.
Even though he’d worked hard to keep his worry from Sierra, determined not to derail her peace and therapy, he knew he needed to share what was happening.
Especially because she was still considering moving to Texas.
At first, Grover and the rest of the team hadn’t been too concerned about the Strong Foot Militia. It was a group from a city not too far from Killeen, railing against the rise of what it considered a tyrannical government—which it believed should be confronted with armed force.
There were three types of “official” militia groups recognized by the US government: the organized—including the National Guard; the unorganized—pretty much all other able-bodied persons between the ages of seventeen and sixty, not already in the National Guard; and state defense forces, which were authorized by state laws.
But then there were groups like Strong Foot, whose members took it upon themselves to take up arms against the government. They were basically armed paramilitary extremists with an anti-government and conspiracy theory ideology.
Grover and his Delta team had long been aware of that particular group, since its home base was in San Angelo, only three hours west of Killeen.
They’d expressed their disdain for just about every aspect of the government, but recently had been extremely vocal in their displeasure with the military—specifically, the fact that the US still had troops overseas.
In just the month since Grover and Sierra had returned from Afghanistan, there had been two unfortunate events regarding the military overseas.
The first was in South Korea, where a soldier had been convicted of two murders, three rapes, and a handful of assault charges.
Because the man’s home base had been Killeen, the Strong Foot Militia had used the media attention as a platform for their own protests.
The second incident happened in Afghanistan, but in a different part of the country than where Sierra had been working when she’d been taken.
While attempting to take out another Taliban leader, the US had killed several civilians during air strikes.
Grover knew the Strong Foot Militia didn’t give one little shit about those civilians; their deaths were simply a handy excuse to push an agenda.
According to Trigger, the group had been protesting outside the main gate of Fort Hood for the last week, getting more and more aggressive with each day that passed. There were several dozen men, holding signs and yelling threats against the soldiers and civilians who drove in and out of the gates.
Tensions were rising in the military town, and the militia group showed no signs of ending their protests, only ramping up their antics. They were thriving on all the media attention they were finally getting, quickly turning the entire town into a powder keg just waiting to explode.
Grover knew Sierra could sense his increasing anxiety about the situation, could see it on his face every time he finished talking on the phone with Trigger. He’d done his best to hide his unease, but obviously wasn’t doing a very good job.
He wanted Sierra to move to Killeen, and was terrified any talk of the militia group would give her a reason to put it off, possibly indefinitely.
But Grover knew staying silent wasn’t fair.
She’d been through hell and had a right to know everything about the city she was considering moving to. The good, bad, and ugly.
He knew the Strong Foot group wouldn’t always be an issue. Hopefully, they’d slink back to where they came from sooner than later, maybe even disband altogether. Beyond that, he also hated keeping anything from Sierra.
Grover made the decision to talk to her about the group before they left tomorrow.
He also hoped to discuss what her plans were once she’d returned to Colorado.
Provided the militia didn’t scare her away, he wanted to know if she was still accepting Ember’s offer, and if so, when she might make the move.
He couldn’t wait to show her his house and barn.
To introduce her to the women she’d been texting with.
To reunite her with his team. To take her to his favorite restaurants.
Hell, just knowing she was in the same town as him would be amazing.
Having her constantly at his side these last two weeks had solidified his feelings for her, and he was desperate to know if she felt the same.
They woke up on the last morning of their full day at The Refuge around seven-thirty, as normal. Sierra left his cabin to go to hers and shower, then they had a large, satisfying breakfast. Afterward, they headed for the barn so Sierra could give morning snuggles to Melba, the goats, and the cats.
But instead of returning to the kitchen to pack a lunch, Sierra said, “Would you mind if we didn’t hike today?”
“Of course not. What do you have in mind?”
“I was thinking we could go back to my cabin, sit on the back deck. And talk.”
Usually when a woman said she wanted to talk, it was bad news.
But Grover was more than willing to listen to whatever Sierra had to say.
It would also give him a chance to discuss the issues the militia group were causing, and to reiterate how badly he wanted her to come to Texas.
She claimed she wanted to, but he had to be sure. “That sounds great.”
They still stopped by the kitchen to grab some food for lunch, which Grover carried to her cabin.
They set everything up on the small table on her back deck and ate in comfortable silence.
That was one of the things Grover liked most about her; he didn’t always have to carry on a conversation.
They could sit in silence together and be perfectly happy.
After they’d finished their sandwiches and cleaned up from lunch, Sierra sat back in her chair and said, “This has been the best two weeks, Grover.”
“I agree.”
“I wasn’t sure I really wanted to come, as you know.
I mean, I was mostly all right, mentally.
I kinda felt as if I should leave the space here for someone who needed it more desperately.
But after sitting in on all the therapy sessions, I realized that while I might not have been treated as horribly as I could’ve been, the experience still affected me more than I’d thought. ”
Grover nodded. “That’s good.”
Sierra looked over at him. “But I know I wouldn’t feel quite as…calm as I do right now, if you hadn’t been here with me.”
Grover’s heart swelled. “I feel the same, Bean.”
“I still can’t believe you did what you did. I mean, it was pretty outrageous. Who gets themselves taken by a terrorist group in the hopes that maybe they’ll find someone who disappeared a year ago? I could’ve long since been dead, Grover.”
“I know.” And he did. It was a long shot, despite what his gut had told him; a decision made out of desperation. “But you weren’t. And here you are.”
“Here I am,” she agreed. She was quiet for a moment, then asked, “Do you think this is healthy?”
“What?”
“Us.”
One word. She didn’t need to say anything else.
“Yes,” Grover told her immediately.
Her lips twitched.
“Look, I’m not saying what we have is conventional. Hell, most people would probably say it’s not normal. But I don’t care. All I think about is how I feel when I’m around you.”
When he didn’t continue, Sierra asked, “And how is that?”
Grover had no problem telling her exactly how he felt. This was the perfect time to lay everything on the line.
“Settled. As if I’ve finally met my best friend.
I don’t feel as if I need to be anyone except who I am when I’m with you.
I don’t have to pretend to not be completely freaked out by spiders because I know you’ll kill them for me.
You know when I’m irritated and when I’m feeling mellow.
I’ve told you all about my fucked-up family dynamics, and you haven’t judged me.
I’ve laughed more in the last two weeks than I have in a very long time, and being around you reminds me why I joined the Army—more specifically, Delta Force.
I don’t care what others think of our relationship.
They can fuck off if they don’t like it.
They aren’t us. They haven’t been through what we have. ”
“That first month after I was taken was the worst,” Sierra said softly. “I was so scared and confused, in pain. I didn’t know what Shahzada wanted from me, and every day I thought would be my last. And out of all the things I could have thought about…I thought about you,” Sierra admitted.